Maeve's Beginning
by Dita
Summary: This is a short story about Maeve before she leaves her homeland. It is complete unless I decide to write a separate follow up fic.  It is fairly dark, and therefore not intended for young readers.  Comments welcome.


Maeve's sharp eyes scanned the treeline from her hiding position. The snow fell thickly, covering their footsteps nicely, but perhaps not enough. The next thicket was but 150 feet away, but to risk stepping into the open and betraying their location was not something she was ready to do. Wearily she crouched in the snow… cold, wet, tired and hungry. Dermott shivered against her body, their cloaks unable to block out the frigid Eire winter. At barely 15 years of age she felt so old… so ugly, and spent. She couldn't remember a time when she didn't feel this way. She couldn't remember the happy times of her young childhood, when her Mother and Father loved her. She could only remember their deaths, her Uncle taking over their lands and laying them to waste. Now she remembered only the beatings she had been given, the death of her beloved Anachie at the hands of her cruel Uncle and the man she was promised to. Now eight months of starvation and desperation had further pushed all that was warm from her mind. She lived in the moment now. Lived for Dermott alone. She had nothing else. Glancing down at her brother's chilled form, her face softened slightly.

"Dermott" she whispered in the silence that filled the field. "If I tell you to run, I want you to head straight for those trees over there" she told him while pointing to the southern end of the treeline. "Don't look back, don't wait for me, and don't stop running until your legs give out. Do you understand me?" Looking up at her face, the 9 year old nodded obediently. He knew when to listen to her. She was the closest thing to a mother he had ever known. And she was certainly the only person who had ever watched out for him. He did not fully know who pursued them, or why. He knew only that many moons ago, Maeve had plucked him from his bed late at night, told him she was leaving forever, and she was taking him with her. She had been frantic that night, as they galloped away from the only home either of them had ever known on her horse Arlan. Bringing nothing with them but the clothes on their backs, they fled under the cover of night. She hadn't revealed to him the events that lead to their flight, but the blood that stained her clothing told him enough. He realized also that Anachie must be dead, ere they would not be traveling alone now. The death of Arlan a couple moons ago had seriously slowed their progress. Maeve no longer allowed them to rest in towns or even buy food anymore. The stayed to the outskirts where they would not be seen, and only at night would they enter town to scavenge crumbs to eat.

Maeve stood slowly, to get a better view of the long clearing. Far in the distance she heard the snapping of a twig. "Run" the word escaped her lips barely above a whisper, as she clearly heard the twang of an arrow being shot from behind them. Dermott took off for the clearing, listening to Maeve's instructions not to stop. Behind him he heard the far off sound of horses closing the distance to his beloved sister.

The first arrow struck the tree beside Maeve's head. With a growl she ripped it from the bark and loaded it onto her own bow and directed it back at the sender. With deadly precision, she dispatched the first rider. Another arrow lodged itself in her upper thigh, causing her to cry out in pain and drop one knee to the ground. With another savage cry she wrenched this one from her bloodied leg and again, returned it to rest with it's owner. They still outnumbered her 4 to 1 as they galloped ever closer. Maeve realized she couldn't outrun them and make it to the thicket. But turning back and leaving Dermott was not an option either. She stood for a moment, indecision ripping through her mind. She took off in a sprint towards the thicket, noting thankfully that she could not see her brother, which meant he had already cleared the distance. The pain in her thigh was almost unbearable as she put her weight on her leg in an effort to run. She heard the twang of another arrow behind her. Closing her eyes, she prayed that the Goddess would protect her. But it was in vain. Her left shoulder exploded in pain as the arrow cleared a path straight through her body. Her steps faltered, and she fell to the snow covered ground. The thick snow already covering the traces of her blood.

Still on the ground she turned to face her attackers, drawing her staff to protect herself, but the pain in her arm prevented her from making much use of it. They surrounded her instantly, like wolves hungry for the kill.

Vicar dismounted first. Her betrothed. The monster she had been sold to for a handful of pigs. The older man trudged towards her, snow clinging to his thick black boots. His cold laugh filled the field, "my little mouse seems to have been caught finally" he stated. With a cry of rage Maeve swung her staff at the cruel face mocking her. He easily sidestepped this blow, knocking the stick from her hands, and followed it with a violent backhand to her face. Maeve's skin broke under the buckles on his glove. She felt blood trickle down the side of her head, as she lay injured on the snow.

"Now, now, let's be reasonable here" he looked at her coldly. "This doesn't have to end badly, if you would just return with me, and become my wife… as I was promised."

Maeve looked up at her captor with malice in her eyes "I'd rather die" she stated boldly.

"THAT CAN BE ARRANGED" Vicar bellowed as his boot delivered a swift blow to Maeve's side, breaking a few ribs and puncturing her lung. Maeve writhed in pain, gasping for breath. The realization sunk in, that she would die here, and Dermott would be alone. She began coughing up blood. "You know" said Vicar cruelly; looking over her now bloodied and crumpled form "You're not as beautiful as I used to think." Kneeling down in front of her, he lifted her face toward him to inspect further.

"Last chance little mouse" he whispered for her ears only "Just say yes, and it will all be a bad dream."

Maeve couldn't control the bile forming in her throat at the thought that this man might ever touch her. Broken and mangled, frustrated and defeated, her anger peaked. Instead of an answer, she forcefully spit in his face, decorating it with her saliva and blood.

Vicar stood up, wiping the liquid from his face. "You three" he commanded the men still standing in a semi-circle. "Find the boy, bring him back here… alive." Then with a cruel sneer towards Maeve he stated "I'm going to let you watch him die first, just like your precious Anachie." As the three men rode off, Vicar pulled out a handkerchief to resume cleaning his face. He turned his back on Maeve.

"You may kill me here, but you will live knowing that you could never OWN ME!" she vehemently spit at him.

"I will kill you here, my dear." He corrected her.

"You won't get away with this" Maeve breathed quietly.

"I already have" he stated honestly. "Who will miss you when you and your brother are dead? Hmm??" He turned to face her. Maeve glared at him menacingly. "No one will even question me when I tell them you were not to be found. Or better yet, that you had killed yourself and your brother. Indeed little mouse, there are many good tales I could tell that no one would question. Because no one cares if you live or die." His statement was true, and Maeve knew it to be so. All she and Dermott had were each other.

She felt the cold creeping into her bones. As he turned away from her once more, looking for his men to return with her brother, Maeve summoned the last ounce of strength she had in her thin frame. Withdrawing the dagger she always carried in her boot, she pounced on his back, accurately slamming the knife into his jugular. She collapsed onto the ground as Vicar grasped desperately at his neck… his life force flowing freely from his veins. He looked at her… in shock, awe, and a touch of respect. He fell lifelessly to the ground.

Maeve begged her body to move, to stand again… she forced herself up onto one knee, one hand on the ground to steady herself… but the pain overtook her. Her vision began to swim. She had lost so much blood already. She didn't have the strength to save Dermott.

As she collapsed once more onto the snow covered earth, she let out a desperate sob. All the anger, the frustration, the fear and longing she had lived with for so long, all for nothing. She was destined to die here, in this cold unholy spot. In the silence she screamed to her gods and goddesses, the wood dwellers and the Fey folk, and any that would hear her "I did not come this far to die HERE!!!" She yelled with anger and force. A tear slid down her bloodied and bruised cheek as again she whispered, "I did not come this far to die now…" She closed her eyes, the guilt of leaving her brother defenseless overwhelming her.

"Well, well, well, what have we here," came the raspy voice of Evil Incarnate. Maeve's eyes snapped open, her vision focused on the hideous visage of the one demon feared by all in the West.

"Scratch" she knew him immediately.

"I thought I heard a desperate soul calling for me… was that you?" he hobbled over to her on his goat legs.

"Be gone demon, I want nothing from you. Let me die in peace" she turned her head away in disgust.

"Why die at all?" he stated. "Why not choose life, and go save your brother?"

Maeve made a sound that almost passed for laughter as she said "and let me guess, you'd do that out of the goodness of your heart demon? I will not trade my immortal soul for a few more minutes in this cruel world." Her breathing became heavily laboured then, as the blood began to pool in her lungs.

"Yes, you're right, my methods can be a bit tiresome even to me" he stated as if responding to some internal dialogue with himself. The demon continued, "What say you, we make this little deal more interesting then? I'll give you a fighting chance to keep your soul. How do you like the sound of that?" He jumped excitedly from one foot to the other. "What say you?!?" he demanded her response immediately, knowing that her soul was slipping away even as they spoke, and soon it would be out of his reach permanently.

Her dull eyes looked at him. She was too weak to waste her voice on him. So he explained his proposition in full, "I will save your life now, if you but make one promise to me. If you keep your promise your whole life through, then you keep your soul when you die. BUT… if you break your promise… you forfeit your soul, and it becomes mine. Now… what say you??"

"What promise?" she croaked.

"Never give yourself completely to any man. Never fall in love with your heart, mind and body." He had a vicious twinkle in his eye as he spoke.

"That be all?" she asked.

"That is all" he stated. "Or you can die here, and in 5 minutes, those men will find your brother, bring him back here and slaughter him, and your story will end. Make your choice wisely, little mouse… " He mocked her with Vicars phrase. Maeve turned away again, her logical self raging against her fear of death. To trust the Demon. To make a deal with the devil. Surely there was more to it then he was letting on. It seemed so easy. Never love a man completely… she thought of her beloved Anachie. Now gone forever. "I will never love again anyway" she stated.

Scratches ears perked up. "Do we have a deal then?" he coaxed excitedly.

"Yes" she whispered, the word was carried up by the winds and lost to all but Scratch. She closed her eyes as the demon began to laugh. Her heart grew heavy, as she struggled for her last breath, she looked imploringly at the demon crouched beside her. Looked at him to save her.

He patted her on the head and said "I will bring you back to life and conquer your mortal wounds" he said "But don't think I'm about to rob myself of the pleasure of watching something beautiful die." Maeve choked on her blood as her breathing stilled. Staring up at the sky, her eyes glazed over, and the fire that once burned within, extinguished.

Scratch breathed in the stench of death. He felt giddy with delight. Today had been so productive. He would have to wait many years, but he had just secured himself at least her soul. And if things went as planned, that sailor would give up his soul to save hers one day. Yes, yes things were indeed turning around. Looking down at her corpse he laughed in delight. His form began to dissipate on the wind, as he fulfilled his half of the bargain. Now all he had to do was watch, and wait…

Authors note: If this inspires anyone else to write a story, I'd love to see it.


End file.
